Naughty Stranger

by Stacey Kennedy

  “That depends,” she breathed.

  “On?”

  Lust-filled eyes with enlarged dark pupils stared back at him. “On what you want.”

  “I want you screaming my name,” he told her bluntly, loving the way her eyes simmered with heat. No pissing around. He wanted her. “I’m guessing Kinsley told you about my divorce, and that you already know that I’m not looking for a relationship either, which is why you’re suddenly allowing this to happen.”

  Peyton gave him a cute smile, leaning into his hand. “She might have told me a thing or two, but honestly, this is more about being reminded today that I only get one shot at life. We’re both adults. We both want each other and don’t want to fall in love. I say that makes it perfectly safe for us to stop fighting this crazy, hot thing between us.”

  Boone didn’t care that Peyton knew about his failed marriage, because apparently, whatever Kinsley said had absolved Peyton’s concerns. That’s all Boone wanted. For her to stop avoiding him. Because, for reasons unknown to him, her avoidance had been driving him mad. He was tired of chasing after her. Exhausted by forcibly being pulled toward her. He needed to find out why this woman had such a draw.

  He stroked the side of her cheek, felt her hitch her breath, and he reveled in how she pressed herself against him tight. “Then let’s set our rules.”

  “Rules?” she asked.

  “You decide how often”—he grinned—“and how hard.”

  She laughed softly, pressing her sweet curves into him. “I like these rules already.”

  “Dates are out of the question?” he asked, running his hand along her back.

  “No official dates,” she said, “but informal lunches, surprise coffees, are totally acceptable.”

  She wanted to see him. Good. He slid his hand down to her ass that had been a tease for a month and squeezed her cheek the way he’d been craving to. “Sleepovers?”

  “Fine,” she replied, wiggling against him and then reaching for his T-shirt. She pushed it up his body until he grabbed the back and yanked it over his head. “As long as I don’t wake up and you’re staring adoringly at me.”

  He chuckled. “Won’t happen.” He reached for her shirt and removed it quickly, letting his gaze wander across her round breasts in her black lace bra before glancing into her face again. “What else?”

  She nibbled her lip and unbuttoned his jeans. “Beyond that, I think there is only one major rule left.”

  He dropped his mouth close to hers. “What’s that?”

  “Don’t fall in love with me,” she said.

  He leaned in close and said dead seriously, “I’m the divorced one, remember? Believe me, the last thing I’d do is hurt you, and falling in love with me would certainly do that.”

  Done with talking, and clear on the just sex, he held her face and dropped his mouth to hers. His tongue dove into her mouth, tasting the mint on her tongue. Needing to get closer, he slid his hand into her hair, kissing her like he’d wanted to kiss her ever since that night in the club. She got his jeans open and dipped her hand in, grabbing hold of his hard cock. He groaned as she stroked him. He braced his hands around her face again, sealing his lips across hers, his tongue exploring her mouth when she ran her hands along his chest. She rubbed her breasts against his, stroking him in a perfect rhythm.

  Pleasure slid throughout him. He growled against her mouth. “Christ, I need you.” He released her hair to grab her cotton pants and yank them off, and they hit the floor a second later. She removed her hand from his jeans and he pulled back to gaze at her. She wore a tiny matching thong, the lingerie delicately accentuating her beauty. “Your lingerie is so damn sexy, Peyton,” he said, sliding his fingers down over her lips, her neck, to the middle of her breasts. “But I want what’s underneath.” He reached around to unhook her bra, freeing her beautiful breasts—breasts that he’d imagined while he stroked himself to finish late at night. The straps fell down her arms exposing round breasts with dark nipples; he took them in his hands, dragging his thumb over her taut peaks. She moaned, tossing her head back, and he was sure he’d never seen anything so stunning.

  “Make that sound again for me, sweetheart.” He sucked one nipple to the roof of his mouth, then treated himself to the other, and she moaned softly, making his cock ache. He licked up her neck, slowly, sensually, swirling his tongue until he sucked on her earlobe, loving how she squirmed against him. He slid his fingers down into her panties, a low sound rumbling from his chest when his fingers found her soaking wet. She clung to him as he kissed her neck and slowly circled her clit until her breath grew raspy and harsh.

  When he leaned back to watch her, she lowered her head, her gaze catching his. “My rules, you said?” she asked playfully, her hair rustled, mouth puffy from his earlier kiss.

  He grinned. “What do you want?”

  “You.” She thrust his jeans down over his ass, then pushed hard against his chest. “Right now.”

  He allowed her to move him to the couch and he lay down on his back, letting her own the show tonight. She tucked her fingers into her panties, then wiggled out of them, revealing a neatly trimmed pussy.

  He grunted. “Jesus, Peyton.”

  The heat between them was raw and real, and he wanted to explore this passion. He threaded his fingers into the soft strands of her hair, claiming her mouth again, deepening his kiss now. She kept up, her hands exploring his chest, his abs, and he felt the heat burning from her fingers.

  When she stroked his cock again, he groaned, feeling her swipe his pre-cum. That was enough for him. He reached for his jeans, grabbed his wallet from his back pocket, and took out a condom. Not wanting this to end, but desperate to get inside her, he put on the condom and reached for her again, enjoying the way she melted against him.

  Her slender fingers slid over his chest when she rose up. He grunted, urgency driving him when he grasped her hip. She was rushing to devour him, to take her pleasure, to hurry this along. To sate this ravenous lust that had been burning for weeks between them.

  That was the very last thing he wanted to do.

  “I want to touch you, taste you, savor you…slowly.” He held her hip firmly, refusing to let her swallow him up. His other hand tangled in her hair, bringing his mouth close to hers. “I want to drive you crazy, then watch you break apart in my arms.” The warmth of her folds pressed against him, and he inhaled her sugary scent, gathering her in his arms. “I want you to lose your goddamn mind like I’ve been losing mine from wanting you.”

  “My God, Boone, I’m already there.” She dropped her head into his neck and kissed him there. He lost sight of his control when she found the tip of his cock with her hand. She brought her mouth to his again. “I don’t want slow. I want now.” Her kiss became more demanding, her raspy breath brushing across his lips. And before he could stop her this time, she sank down on him, taking him deep. Pleasure blinded him. His hand released her hip when she began rocking against him and he stared into her eyes while she began bouncing atop him. He cupped her jiggling breasts, sucked on her nipple before he moved his lips to her throat near her pulse point. He licked and played, moving his hands to her bottom, helping her move faster until she set a rhythm that had them both moaning and gasping their pleasure.

  When he finally leaned away, needing to see those sweet eyes of hers that, for this moment, didn’t look so sad anymore, she grabbed his chin, holding his face and moving faster, harder, owning him for these few seconds, and he allowed it. In fact, he grinned. “Take what you need, gorgeous.” He held on to her bottom and assisted her until her moans were right on top of each other.

  “I’m going to…” She reached back, placing her hands on his thighs, dropping her head back until she shook and trembled…and until the hitch of her breath told him to thrust into her harder, faster…wildly.

  Then she came apart in his arms. Free. Breathless. She shuddered atop him, losing herself completely, holding nothing back. Her inner muscles were a consta
nt tease, working against his control, tempting him to finish with her.

  Not on his life.

  He gritted his teeth and waited her out. Yeah, she had a plan of seducing him, on her terms. He saw that now. But he had plans too.

  When she dropped her head, her eyes met his again and she smiled in satisfaction. He carefully rose with her in his arms and then he laid her out on the couch. Above her, he gazed down as the candlelight cast a warm glow across the gentle lines of her body.

  She grinned up at him, squeezing her arms against her breasts, giving him a fine show. “Like what you see?”

  Damn. His cock jerked. “I’m starting to think you are far too sexy for your own good.”

  She laughed, then gasped, arching her back, when he drove deep inside her again. Those emotional eyes that caught his attention the second he stared into them came to his again. They had power. Magic, even. He rocked his hips, sliding into her to unravel her.

  And she unraveled.

  But so did he.

  Her hands threaded through his hair while her sensual moans brushed across his ear. He kept his mouth on her neck, pumped his hips harder, skin slapping against skin, driving into her the way he’d imagined. She wrapped her legs around his ass, and he pressed himself into the very depths of her, rising up to watch her. Her chin tilted back, her moans growing deeper, louder. And even then, he didn’t feel close enough.

  And he wanted all of her. Until she had nothing left to give.

  She lifted her head to kiss him, and it was the way she melted into him, giving him everything, that had him shifting even deeper. His cock pulsed with his pleasure, and he controlled nothing, euphoria overwhelming everything when he began to feel the early quivers of her inner muscles against his shaft. He pinched his eyes shut, pleasure sweeping through him like a high-grade fever.

  With a final roar, he thrust forward, holding her to him as he emptied himself.

  Sometime later, he vaguely felt her move against him and laugh. “I hope you’re not too tired tonight.”

  “And why is that?”

  She lifted her head and gave him a sexy, satisfied smile. “Because we are totally doing that again.”

  He chuckled, then brought his mouth up to hers. “Promise?”

  And her hot kiss said all he needed to know.

  * * *

  Late into the night, Boone startled awake, hearing soft rustling outside the room. He glanced next to him, finding Peyton not in the bed. The bedroom was pitch-black, except for the light spilling out from the hallway. He slid out of bed, and his feet dragged against the hardwood floor. Once he stepped into the hallway, he found his boxers on the ground. He slipped into them quickly and then followed the light into the small kitchen. There wasn’t much to her kitchen, but a white round table sat near a row of windows, a kitchen island with stools on the other side, and a row of freshly painted soft green cabinets with a sink set in the middle. Peyton stood at the sink wearing her cotton nightgown and rubber gloves, cleaning it. He rubbed his eyes, then asked, “What are you doing?”

  She gasped, startled, holding her gloves up like she’d been caught red-handed.

  He chuckled, unable to help it. “Do you normally clean your house in the middle of night?”

  She watched him for a moment, a thousand things playing in her gaze, then she went back to cleaning. “Just when I’m thinking.”

  He didn’t like the tightness in her expression or her voice. And yet, he understood now, knowing she was a widow. He’d been there, where the mind couldn’t stop working, so the body needed to move. But just because he understood her mind at the moment didn’t mean he liked seeing her this way.

  Keeping a little distance for now to gauge where she was, he moved to the kitchen island and took a seat on the stool. “Are you all right?”

  She scrubbed the sink with a sponge. “Don’t think I’m regretting having sex…because I’m totally not. Really, out of ten, it was all the way to twenty. So, please don’t think that I’m thinking you were bad in bed or something.”

  “Believe me, that thought never crossed my mind.” He liked sex. He was good at it. “And somehow, you still haven’t answered me.”

  She scrubbed the sink harder, her back to him, causing the hem of her nightgown to lift, showing the top of her thigh. “I don’t want you to get the wrong idea about me,” she said quickly. “I’m not the kind of girl who sleeps with a bunch of men either.” He glanced up into her face when she looked over her shoulder at him. She drew in another deep breath, then added, “Sex is a very personal thing for me.”

  He arched an eyebrow. “Peyton.”

  She kept on talking, as if he weren’t even sitting there. “I’m just really focusing on me.”

  He got off his stool, moved next to her. “Peyton.”

  “Just one last thing.” She raised a finger, pressing it to his lips. “I also don’t want you thinking that I’m some booty call either. I might not want a relationship, but I’m no one’s plaything either. Got it?”

  Yeah, he got it. And she was so damn sexy right now. She stood there, all messy and cute in her rubber gloves, and he grabbed her face, sealed his mouth over hers. She tensed for a millisecond before she softened and kissed him back. He took everything she offered, every bit of lust that she had to give, feeding the kiss with his passion until she was cradled against him, eager for more.

  He forced himself to break the kiss. “Can I talk now?” he asked with a smile, hoping to ease her.

  She exhaled deeply, visibly relaxing. “Yes, I think so.”

  “Good.” He slid the gloves off her hands, then guided her to the stool where he’d been sitting. “Sit.”

  Looking mildly confused, she did as he commanded.

  He moved to her fridge, glad to find eggs inside. He also found a green pepper and some mushrooms in the crisper, along with cheddar cheese. “Where’s the frying pan?” he asked, glancing back at her.

  She stared at him with brows drawn over her tired eyes.

  “The pan?” he repeated.

  “In the stove’s drawer.”

  He found it quickly, then set to making two omelets, his eyes slowly waking up while he worked. He’d been exactly where she currently was, where the mind ran wild with guilt, pain, and everything in between. He renovated his house—that was his therapy. Cleaning must be Peyton’s.

  Right as the omelets finished cooking, Peyton asked, “What are we doing exactly?”

  “My dad always said when the head got heavy to eat an omelet.” Boone turned off the stove, moving the pan off the heat. “Plates? Forks?”

  She pointed to the right of him. “There. And there.”

  He followed her gaze and took out two forks and grabbed plates and slid an omelet on each one. He handed her a plate before moving around the island to sit down next to her. “Growing up, my dad always said that sometimes no matter what you do, you won’t be able to figure something out. So, the best thing to do is eat. Fill the belly up with something warm and healthy, then go from there.” He offered her a fork and pointed to her plate with his fork. “Eat up.”

  Waiting like his father had the time Boone came home after he got into a fight with Scott over dating Chelsea, he paused for her to start. Then he ate his omelet, even though his stomach wasn’t even awake yet.

  Halfway finished, she asked, “I take it this is to stop your brain from overworking and putting your attention elsewhere to clear your mind?”

  “I didn’t know it back when my dad first started the omelet tradition,” Boone said. “But later I realized why he did it.” He turned to her, stared into her emotional tired eyes. “It’s because you can’t change what’s happened. You could stress and fret and worry or—”

  She smiled. “You could eat an omelet.”

  He chuckled and nodded. “Exactly. The thing you were thinking about will still be there. By the time you’ve eaten the omelet, you’ll have stopped thinking about it so hard and see that everything is going to be f
ine. You’re still here. You’re still breathing. And no matter what happens, life carries on and works itself out.”

  Her shoulders finally lowered with her long exhale. She ate the next couple bites in silence, then eventually said, “You know what?”

  “What?” he asked with a full mouth.

  “I think your father is a very smart man.”

  Boone glanced sideways and winked at her. “He knows it too.”

  Chapter 4

  When Boone woke the next morning, he reached for the warm woman he’d satisfied a few times more during the night, when a clipped voice said, “Touch my ass and die.”

  Boone didn’t die. What did die was his morning wood.

  He slowly opened an eye, not surprised to find Kinsley sitting on the edge of Peyton’s bed. What did surprise him was the bedroom he lay in. They’d fallen back into bed some time during the dark night and Boone hadn’t really gotten a look at the room, too focused on Peyton’s lithe body beneath him. What he found now was a small space full of antique furniture; even the metal bed frame looked vintage, though the queen-size mattress was pure comfort. He also didn’t find a single thing showing that Peyton lived a life before this one. Not a picture of friends or family or even an old pet.

  “Ahem.”

  Boone glanced back at Kinsley and sighed at her glare, shutting his eyes again. “You’re not who I wanted to see this morning,” he grumbled.

  Kinsley rose, bouncing the mattress beneath him. “Whatever happened to ‘I’ll go over and check in on her’?”

  Boone rolled onto his back, dropping his arm across his tired eyes, making sure the blanket covered his waist with the other hand. “Whatever happened to ‘This is none of your business’?”

  “Everything is my business,” Kinsley stated. “You should really know that by now.”